Memories hacked by starlight out of distrust and loyalty. A visitation in the fallibility of strangers. All while drunk on my own twilight hubris. Digging through the phone book for friends, even as my cognition fades. Unacquired scars from muscular teeth beneath leather bones. Finding a small handful of purpose, bookmarked between smeared sepia pages and faded rainbow highlights. I pack my old scavenging bag for a trip to driftwood waterfalls. The city will still be dead in the morning.
4:19 p.m. - 2021-06-04
Recent entries:
Of Late Arrivals at Falltails - 2021-06-24
On Not Being Alone - 2021-06-17
Head Cleaning - 2021-06-17
The Messiness of Silence - 2021-06-11
Of Little Breeze - 2021-06-11
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